The veranda was a battlefield of silent glares and half-eaten toast. Chen Feng, despite his god-like status, felt the distinct urge to vanish into the floorboards. To maintain his "Salted Fish" facade, he leaned into his greatest weapon: shamelessness.
"The shower," Lin Xuerui repeated, her voice cutting through the humid air like a diamond-tipped drill. "You're saying my cousin's current inability to stand straight is due to infrastructure failure?"
"Exactly," Chen Feng said, suddenly standing up with a false burst of energy. "In fact, as the security consultant, I cannot in good conscience allow anyone to bathe in such treacherous conditions. Gary!"
Gary, still rubbing his bruised throat, scrambled forward. "Yes, Boss?"
"Go to the local market. Buy every anti-slip mat on the island. Suction cups, rubberized grip, neon colors—I don't care. If a surface is flat and wet, I want it covered."
The "Big Four" watched in stunned silence as Gary dashed off. Chen Feng actually followed him to the door, shouting instructions about "high-friction coefficients" to avoid Xuerui's piercing gaze. He was shamelessly doubling down on the lie, hoping that if he bought enough rubber mats, the truth would be buried under them.
While Chen Feng played the role of the diligent safety inspector, Lin Xia remained slumped in her chair. Her body was still humming with the residual energy of the Sovereign, and her heart was doing frantic gymnastics in her chest.
Is he doing this to protect me? she wondered, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. Or is he just embarrassed?
She remembered the heat of the room, the way his ancient stillness had finally broken, and the look in his eyes when he realized... everything. Her heart fluttered with a mixture of terror and an intoxicating, sweet ache. To her, it was a life-altering bond; to him, she feared it was just a "glitch" in his lazy routine. She felt like she was floating in a deep ocean, unsure if he was her anchor or the storm itself.
Xuerui wasn't satisfied. "I'm inspecting the scene of the accident," she announced, standing up.
Meiling, Ye Qingxuan, and Mu Ronghuan immediately rose as well. The four women marched toward Chen Feng's suite like a firing squad.
Inside, the room was a mess of tangled silk sheets and lingering peach scents. Chen Feng, sweating slightly, began frantically throwing "Caution: Wet Floor" signs (which Gary had miraculously found) over the bed and near the bathroom door.
"See?" Chen Feng pointed to the bathroom, where Gary was already stapling a bright yellow rubber mat to the marble floor.
"Deathtrap. Pure ice. Xia is lucky she only ended up... limping."
Xuerui stepped into the bathroom, her eyes scanning for "evidence." She found a discarded, half-empty glass of pink liquid near the sink. Before she could grab it, Chen Feng snatched it up and swallowed the dregs.
"Vitamins," he choked out, the high-potency nectar nearly making his eyes pop out of his head. "Good for the... back."
"This is unacceptable," Principal Ye declared, looking at the "shabby" (luxurious) state of the room. "Until the safety audit is complete, Xia will move into my suite. We will provide her with the necessary... physical therapy."
"I agree," Meiling added, her eyes lingering on the disheveled bed. "And Chen Feng, since you're so concerned with safety, you can sleep in the staff quarters with Gary. To ensure the anti-slip mats are installed correctly."
Chen Feng looked at the "Big Four" taking Xia away—each of them holding one of her arms as she gingerly hopped along. He looked at the room now filled with thirty-four different rubber mats.
He was confused. He was guilty. He was incredibly shamelessly committed to the "slippery floor" narrative. But as he watched Xia look back at him over her shoulder—her eyes wide, hopeful, and terrified—he realized that no amount of rubber mats could stop him from slipping into a situation he couldn't lazily ignore.
"Gary," Chen Feng sighed, sitting down on a neon-green mat.
"Yeah, Boss?"
"I think I need a drink. A real one. No peaches."